


come on now, follow my lead

by theglitterati



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Dancing, Grinding, Japanese National Team, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, come with me on this rarepair journey friends, first (english) smut in the atsuiwa tag wassup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theglitterati/pseuds/theglitterati
Summary: Team Japan loses to Argentina in the finals. It's now or never if Atsumu wants Iwaizumi, even if just for a night.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117





	come on now, follow my lead

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Shape of You" by Ed Sheeran.

“Ten thousand yen.”

“No.”

“Twenty thousand!”

Sakusa threw back his whiskey. “No.”

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu whined. “Are ya plannin’ on havin’ any fun tonight at all?”

“You paying me to embarrass myself by dancing with you isn’t fun, Miya. Go bother someone else.” Sakusa looked around the bar. “Why don’t you find Iwaizumi-san and tell him about your pathetic crush on him?”

“Yeah, lemme do that. While I’m at it, maybe I’ll tell Ushiwaka ya wanna have germ-free sex with him through a hole in the sheet.”

Sakusa glared at him. “Go fuck yourself, Miya.” He stood, taking his Team Japan jacket from the back of his chair. “Don’t talk to me for at least an hour.”

“Fine.” Atsumu watched him disappear into the crowd. He’d left his drink behind; Atsumu snatched it up and finished it in one gulp, letting the whiskey burn his throat.

Tonight, he was celebrating.

Not really. They’d lost the finals that day to Argentina, sticking them with silver medals. Second in the world wasn’t bad, but the loss was fresh. Atsumu planned on getting so drunk tonight he forgot the Olympics ever happened. He was already halfway there.

It was no fun doing it alone, though. Despite team loyalty, Atsumu probably shouldn’t have hung his drinking-buddy hopes on Sakusa, the dickhead. He scanned the bar for the rest of Team Japan. They weren’t easy to find; the bar was full of athletes, all of them unnaturally tall.

He spotted Aran first, talking to some athletes he didn’t recognize. He was the obvious choice for someone to hang with, but also a non-drinker. Atsumu could admit that he was an annoying drunk; he didn’t want anyone sober to have to put up with him. Ushiwaka was by the coat room, in deep conversation with the captain of the Polish team, and Gao was being hit on by an American swimmer down the bar. Hoshiumi and Motoya were on the dance floor, visible only from the strobe lights reflecting off Kourai’s stupid hair. Atsumu was headed towards them when he saw _him._

Iwaizumi stood alone at a tiny table, staring out over the writhing crowd. In the dim light, the angles of his face were sharper than ever. Atsumu wanted to cut himself on that jawline. For once, he wasn’t wearing a polo shirt — just a plain, black t-shirt that put his broad shoulders on full display. Atsumu was heating up, and not from the whiskey.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought. _What’s the worst that could happen?_ Iwaizumi could tell him he wasn’t interested. Or maybe he would be interested, but just for tonight. Atsumu could live with that. He flagged down the bartender, took a quick shot for confidence, and headed across the room.

He sidled up to the table and leaned across it, already too far into Iwaizumi’s personal space. “Where’s yer friend?” he shouted over the music. Iwaizumi frowned. “Argentina.”

“Out celebrating, I guess.” 

Atsumu wondered if it was a good sign that he didn’t know. Rumour was the two of them were more than friends. Atsumu supposed he’d find out. “Ya didn’t wanna go with him?”

“No. I’ll congratulate him later.” He took a long drink of something clear and fizzy. “You guys are my team.”

Atsumu grinned. “Do ya wanna—”

“Iwaizumi-saaan!” Iwaizumi was pulled into a hug by a very drunk Hinata, his face as red as his hair. Kageyama trailed behind him, looking either inebriated or constipated, Atsumu couldn’t tell.

“Hey, Hinata.” Iwaizumi gently removed him from around his waist. “You better not have drank too much.”

“I didn’t!” Hinata insisted. “Atsumu-san, tell him I never get sick!”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at Atsumu. “It’s strange, but true,” Atsumu said. “Shouyou-kun can hold his liquor. This one, on the other hand…” Kageyama didn’t seem to notice they were talking about him.

“Nah, he’s fine,” Hinata said. “He gets weird when he’s drunk.”

“Only when he’s drunk?” Atsumu asked.

“You guys, come dance with us!" Hinata shouted. "It’ll be so much fun!” He tugged on Atsumu’s arm.

This seemed like the best opportunity Atsumu was going to get. He pitched his voice low, pressing close to Iwaizumi. “Ya wanna dance, Hajime-kun?”

He wasn’t too drunk to catch Iwaizumi’s reaction, the split-second of interest writ clear across his face before he schooled his features into a scowl and said, “Only so I can watch Kageyama make a fool of himself.” Hinata cheered and dragged Kageyama away, Iwaizumi and Atsumu following. 

A slow smile crept across Atsumu’s face as he grabbed Iwaizumi’s wrist on the pretense of staying together in the crowd. Maybe tonight would be better than he thought.

Kageyama’s moves were truly awful, but Hinata was a good sport about it, jumping around so much that everyone looked at him instead. Motoya and Hoshiumi found them within two songs, accompanied by Bokuto. His cheeks were stained with tears, but he looked way better than he had after the game. He’d hung back outside the bar to talk to his husband on the phone; Akaashi must have cheered him up.

The crowd was thick, and the team got separated as the music switched to something with more bass. Atsumu let it happen; he wanted Iwaizumi all to himself. He was going to make him forget about everyone else, especially that prissy Argentinian setter.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that Iwaizumi was a good dancer. They didn’t need to work to keep their hips moving in sync, the bass beat rocking the floor beneath them. Atsumu was _finally_ having some fucking fun. It was easy to move closer, pretending it was the crush of the crowd, and let his arms settle on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Iwaizumi didn’t pull away, though his mouth fell slightly open as he watched Atsumu dance.

Atsumu leaned in and asked, “Like what ya see?”

Iwaizumi smirked. “I prefer the view from the other side.” Before Atsumu could react, Iwaizumi spun him around, fingers digging into Atsumu’s hips. “Your ass looks amazing in those jeans, by the way.”

 _Fuck._ Atsumu nearly dropped to the floor, his voice was so hot. Instead, he pushed backwards until they were flush together from shoulder to hip, leaning his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. One quick snap of his hips told him Iwaizumi was hard. He took that as an invitation and grinded against him, drawing a groan from Iwaizumi that was audible over the music.

Atsumu trailed a hand up his body and over his shoulder and used it to pull Iwaizumi into a sloppy kiss. He tasted like lemon and something sharper, maybe vodka. Atsumu happily licked the taste from his mouth.

Iwaizumi moved his mouth to Atsumu’s ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Been hopin’ ya’d say that.”

Iwaizumi led the way out of the crowd and towards the door. They passed Sakusa near the entrance and Atsumu gave him the finger behind Iwaizumi’s back. He’d hooked his man; maybe Sakusa would grow a pair and get some, too.

People were lined up the street waiting for cabs. “Fuck,” Iwaizumi said. “We’re pretty far from the village.”

Atsumu waved a set of keys at him. “Good thing I live three blocks from here, huh?”

Atsumu stopped kissing Iwaizumi at his door long enough to turn the lights on and give the place a once-over. He hadn’t been home since they moved into the village three weeks ago. It wasn’t dust or spoiled milk he was worried about but Osamu, who had stayed there when he came down to watch their games the week before, leaving something embarrassing in plain sight. Luckily, the place looked clean.

Iwaizumi stepped out of his shoes in the entryway. “So, do I get the tour, or…?”

“Kitchen.” Atsumu pointed. “Bathroom, living room, and, most importantly, bedroom. Come on.”

Atsumu shoved Iwaizumi on the bed and crawled on top of him, settling on his thighs and pulling at his shirt. He swallowed thickly when it came off. Iwaizumi was as well-built as any guy on the team. His arms were definitely thicker than some of them, and those abs— Atsumu wanted to lick them. Being drunk, he did just that, drawing a hiss from Iwaizumi.

“Ya know,” he said, moving up to tongue at a dark nipple, “it’s real fuckin’ unfair that ya got to see all of us butt naked in the locker room, yet this is the first time I’m seein’ all this.”

“It’s not— ah.” He broke off when Atsumu bit down. “It’s not like I was looking at you guys while you were changing.” Atsumu flicked his tongue, eyebrow raised. “Well, not at everyone.” Iwaizumi tugged Atsumu’s hair to draw him up to eye level. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really fucking stunning?”

Atsumu was ready with a cocky retort, but Iwaizumi’s word choice — _stunning?_ — caught him up. “P-plenty of people.” It wasn’t true: he’d been called sexy, pretty, handsome. Never stunning.

Iwaizumi raked a hand through his hair. “Should have guessed I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”

“Yer the one who’s here, aren’t ya?” Atsumu paused, hovering over him. “Not that I didn’t have to work for it. I’ve been throwin’ myself at ya for weeks, Hajime-kun.”

“I couldn’t do anything while the Games were on.”

“Sure ya could’ve.”

“No, I really couldn’t. You’re not gonna be able to walk when I’m done with you.” With that, he flipped them over, coherent thought exiting Atsumu’s brain completely.

They tore the rest of their clothes off quickly, to get to the good part faster. Iwaizumi wasted no time spreading Atsumu’s legs and opening him up, stretching him open on three fingers until Atsumu was clawing at the sheets, begging Iwaizumi to fuck him.

Iwaizumi rolled on a condom and slicked a last bit of lube on both of them. “Okay, I know what I said about not walking, but if you want me to be gentle, I can—”

“Hajime,” Atsumu said. “I want ya to fuck me so hard I can feel it at the next Olympics.”

“Thought so.” He grabbed Atsumu by the hips and, in one swift motion, pulled him onto his cock.

Atsumu screamed when he felt him bottom out. “Too much?” Iwaizumi asked.

“No, fuck no. _More.”_

Iwaizumi delivered, pressing Atsumu’s knees to his shoulders — good thing they’d done all that flexibility training — and pounding into him. Atsumu revelled in the thickness of him as he moved in and out, the hot stretch just on the right side of painful. Iwaizumi slammed into his prostate and Atsumu keened, _Hajime_ escaping his lips at an embarrassingly high pitch. When he looked up, Iwaizumi was staring down at him.

“You ready for me to go hard?”

Atsumu’s stomach dropped. _“What?!”_

“I’m kidding. Mostly. Tell me if I hurt you.” He pushed his legs higher and thrust impossibly deeper into him.

It didn’t take long, with the way Iwaizumi kept hitting his prostate, before Atsumu was close, but he couldn’t quite get there. He wondered if Iwaizumi was teasing him on purpose. “Fuck, I’m close, I need—”

“What? Tell me, Atsumu.”

The commanding way Iwaizumi said his name was great, but it wasn’t enough. Atsumu whined in frustration. He needed to _come._ He didn’t know how he was supposed to get there.

“Choke me,” he finally said. It was the first thing that came to mind as he stared up at Iwaizumi’s arms.

A hand clasped around his throat. “Kick me if it’s too much.” Iwazumi squeezed, cutting off Atsumu’s airflow.

Atsumu didn’t think it could _ever_ be too much. Iwaizumi’s other hand came up to stroke his cock, and Atsumu was coming. Iwaizumi released his throat, letting Atsumu moan loudly while he worked him through it. He fell back against the pillows, breathing heavily.

He was about to tell Iwaizumi to keep going until he came, that he could take it, but he was already pulling out, removing the condom and taking himself in hand. Atsumu wrapped his own around it and they pushed him over the edge together, Iwaizumi coming in hot spurts across Atsumu’s already-messy stomach. A filthy part of Atsumu’s brain wished he’d done it on his face instead.

If he had, though, maybe he wouldn’t have kissed Atsumu after, which was what he did now, a slow, languid slide of his lips against Atsumu’s. His palm pressed gently to Atsumu’s cheek, almost delicate after what they’d just done.

“You have towels?” Iwaizumi asked.

“In the bathroom,” Atsumu said. “I can—”

“Nah, stay here. I’ll get it.”

He returned with one towel and two glasses of water. “Both are for you,” he said. “One for now, and one for when you wake up dehydrated in the night.” He wiped at Atsumu’s stomach.

“The Games are over,” Atsumu said. “Ya don’t have to take care of me anymore.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I can’t turn it off. I make you exert yourself, I get you a drink.” Atsumu hadn’t actually played much during the Games, thanks to Tobio. This was close to the most effort he’d made the whole time. “There, clean. Where should I put this?” He held up the towel.

“Throw it on the floor. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Iwaizumi gestured at the pillow Atsumu wasn’t currently using. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” Atsumu told himself it was too late for Iwaizumi to get a cab; he’d be a bad host if he threw him out. He wasn’t letting him stay because he wanted to keep Iwaizumi close, if only for a little while longer.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Atsumu.”

“‘Night, Hajime.”

*

Atsumu woke up early. Iwaizumi was right about the dehydration; his mouth felt like the Sahara. He grabbed the remaining glass of water and chugged the entire thing. Only once it was gone did he notice the bed was empty.

The first thing Atsumu felt was disappointment, followed by disgust with himself for feeling that way. Disappointment meant he’d gotten his hopes up when he had tried not to. He _knew_ that it was a one-time thing, that Iwaizumi didn’t want anything from him but a quick fuck. A consolatory tryst to make them both feel better about losing. Now that the Olympics were over, there was nothing to stick around for. Atsumu himself certainly wasn’t worth—

The toilet flushed.

Iwaizumi padded in, wearing nothing but boxers. He stopped when he saw Atsumu staring. “Sorry for waking you. I had to piss.” He lifted the blankets and crawled back into bed with him.

Atsumu kept staring. “Yer still here,” he blurted.

“Yes? Did you think I left?” Atsumu nodded. “Oh. Did you want me to—”

“No!” Atsumu said, way too loud. “No, no, s’fine, I just— I guess I’m just surprised, is all.”

Iwaizumi frowned at him. A cute furrow appeared on his brow, like he was trying to do really hard math. “Why?”

“I dunno. I thought ya’d maybe wanna—” It was time to stop pretending he didn’t know his name. “I thought ya’d wanna go see Oikawa-kun.”

Iwaizumi made a face. “This early? No thanks.” He still seemed confused. “You know me and Oikawa are just friends, right? Best friends, probably, but only that.”

“I do now,” Atsumu said.

Iwaizumi nodded, getting his meaning. “Geez. Do you really think that badly of me? That I’d sleep with you if I was into someone else?”

“I—”

“Or,” Iwaizumi said, cutting straight to the point, “maybe it’s not me that you have a low opinion of?”

Atsumu stopped breathing. He felt like he’d been turned inside-out, all the gross parts of himself on display for Iwaizumi to see. He thought he might be sick.

“Anyway,” Iwazumi said. He was going to leave; Atsumu was sure of it. “You got any eggs?”

“Huh?”

“Eggs. For eating. I saw rice in the kitchen. You hungry?”

Atsumu blinked. “Ya wanna make me breakfast?”

“I want to make _us_ breakfast. I’m having some, too.”

“I— I think there’s some in the fridge,” Atsumu said. “I don’t know if they’re good, though.”

Iwaizumi gave him a thumbs-up. “I’ll check before I cook any." He paused. "If I make you breakfast, you owe me dinner, okay?” He gave Atsumu a shy smile, completely different from the smirk he’d thrown at him the night before.

Atsumu grinned like an idiot. “Yeah, okay.”

He flopped back on the pillow, listening to Iwaizumi banging around in his kitchen. Iwaizumi Hajime was making him eggs. He couldn’t wait to shove this in Sakusa’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at kyrstin.tumblr.com!


End file.
